All I Have
by TheTimeWeaver
Summary: Dean doesn't know how to handle what happened after Cas was taken over by the Leviathans, and goes searching for answers.


Dean felt hollow inside. Actually, no. Even hollow couldn't describe it. Just a day before, they had finally seen a glimpse of Cas. His Cas. Not soul-sucking, "new God", Cas. For a moment, those deep blue eyes returned to normal. As he looked up at Dean, the hunter could read hundreds of emotions wash over his face.

Shame. Guilt. Panic.

But when he saw the raw honesty there, Dean lost any sense of anger he had with the angel before. But before Dean could even get a chance to express any of it, the Leviathans had already taken over. And just a bit later, as Dean held the soggy, bloodstained trench coat in his hands, the true reality set in.

_Cas was gone._

And as if that wasn't enough, Sam was breaking down, seeing hell leak into his world, the dam completely gone and slowly taking its toll on him. Dean was torn into pieces, although of course, his face remained stoic and calm, even when inside his heart was imploding on itself. If that wasn't a big enough heaping load of pain, there were always the constant gnawing of his own self hatred, sending the hunter into downwards spiral of self destruction.

_My fault._

The words echoed in Dean's mind, over and over, not silenced by a single one of the drinks he'd downed over the past twelve hours. But of course, the final straw to the inevitable collapse of his calm façade was simply a conversation with Bobby.

"Son, you were mad at Sam for giving you the same damned answer no less than an hour ago, right before he spilled his marbles." Bobby had said, trying desperately to reach the hunter.

"Yeah, well…" Dean started, grabbing a beer from the fridge. "I keep my marbles in a friggin' lead box. I'm fine. Really."

"Course, yeah. Just lost one of the best friends you'd ever had, your brother's in the bell jar, and Purgatory's most wanted are surfin' the sewer lines, but yeah, yeah, I get it. Right. You're—_you're fine_." Without even looking at his face, Dean can feel Bobby's eyes reading right through his mask. Dean flashes him a look, trying to hold up his image.

"Good." He states, walking back over to the table, beer in hand.

"However, if you ever decide to change your mind and decide that's utter bullshit.." Bobby starts, but Dean cuts him off.

"You know what? You're right, I'm far from fine. So I'm taking my far from fine ass on a goddamned fucking drive." He shouted, storming out the door, beer knocked over on the table.

Dean was driving fast, not giving a hell where he was headed. But the further he drove, the more an idea set into his mind. He fumbled for his phone, and chucked it out the window, not wanting Bobby or Sam to go looking.

Dean didn't stop until it was far past midnight, the roads empty and quiet, as he pulled to a stop at a small intersection of two dirt roads. He went to the trunk, grabbed a box containing what he'd need, and one of his many fake IDs, and went to work. He barely had a chance to finish burying the box before he heard him.

"Well, fancy this." Cooed Crowley, smirking at Dean. "Didn't expect to see you this soon." He chuckled, turning to face him. He grabbed Dean's collar and pulled him close. "Now, what can I do for you." He whispered, a smug grin creeping its way onto his face.

"Cas." Dean said, looking down at the ground to keep his eyes averted from Crowley's ever suspicious glare.

"Ah, so I was right, little Cas's visits weren't just for "checking in" on you." He winked at Dean.

"Sorry pal, you're wrong there." Dean said, the severity of his voice intensifying as he drew out the colt. "Just bring. Him. Back." He said, cocking the gun.

"Woah there sweetie, let's not get your panties into a wad. Do you even realize what this request entails?" He said, putting up his hands in defense. "I can't do it." Dean's finger grazes the trigger, and he takes a step closer to the king of Hell himself.

"I don't care what it costs me." He said, no longer being able to control his emotions as his voice begins to shake. "Bring him back."

Crowley raises an eyebrow at the Winchester boy.

"Put down that pretty little gun of yours, then we'll talk." Crowley grins, moving Dean's hand and the weapon slowly away from his face.


End file.
